


is it love, all we need (is it love?)

by whyyesitscar



Series: oh, it is love [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23441104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyesitscar/pseuds/whyyesitscar
Summary: It’s intoxicating, to be still and slow with Jester. Physically, there isn’t any way they could be closer together, but that doesn’t stop Beau from wanting it.// or: i'm gonna keep writing these two on the beach until my fingers fall off
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Series: oh, it is love [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1663003
Comments: 24
Kudos: 156





	is it love, all we need (is it love?)

**Author's Note:**

> i like to keep to a tradition of giving things to other people on my birthday. usually it's cookies, but these weird times aren't so great for cookies. so happy day to me, here's some soft gay fluff for everyone else.
> 
> title from "honey" by kehlani, lyrics from "you can close your eyes" by james taylor.
> 
> please enjoy!

  
  


_well, the sun is surely sinking down  
_ _but the moon is slowly rising._  
_and this old world must still be spinning 'round,  
_ _and i still love you._

/

“Mama said she’s singing tonight.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

The rest of the party has wandered off around the city, to peruse shops or get a snack or spend time with family, as is the case with Veth. Beau and Jester elected to stay on the beach; Yasha was here, too, but she disappeared a few hours ago. It’s a peaceful day—bright but quiet, the water placid and sparkling. They seem to keep coming back to the beach. Beau started her day with some meditation and stretches, sneaking out while Jester was still sleeping and her hair glittered in the soft light of dawn. She got a few hours alone before her friends crept up on her—Caduceus first, then Fjord and Caleb shortly after, then a whirlwind of Veth and Jester. Beau isn’t sure when Yasha showed up. She simply wasn’t there, and then she was.

They’ve ventured back inside for meals and a quick nap, but mostly they’ve stayed near the water, in an alcove protecting them from sun and prying eyes. They’ve gone swimming too, of course, though Jester is better at it than Beau is. Between her genasi heritage and a childhood growing up near the ocean, she slips through the waves like a fish, disappearing as her skin blends in with the surf. Jester spent at least half an hour swimming away from Beau, only to pop up next to her when she least expected it. Beau has trained to be aware of everything, to rely on all of her senses at once.

Jester caught her off guard every time.

“Sometimes if it’s, like, a magical night, the band will play outside on the patio until they can’t see their instruments anymore, and people will dance and stuff.”

“Yeah?”

Jester nods. “Yeah, I don’t know if they’ve done that in a while, but I could ask Mama. You can’t have those nights too often, you know? Or else they just become ordinary.”

“Do you think tonight is magical enough?”

“Do _you_?”

Beau pulls Jester back against her chest, rubbing her thumb across the back of Jester’s hand. “You want the cool answer or the cheesy answer?”

“Duh,” Jester laughs. “The cheesy one.”

“Every night with you is magic, Jes.”

“Beauuu…”

“Hey. I warned ya.”

The waves pick up as Jester nestles in between Beau’s legs, her head tucked under Beau’s chin. She pushes her toes further into the sand and leans up, kissing the underside of Beau’s jaw. It’s intoxicating, to be still and slow with Jester. Beau adjusts her arm as it hangs over Jester’s shoulder, hooking it tighter and closer around her. Physically, there isn’t any way they could be closer together, but that doesn’t stop Beau from wanting it.

“We could just stay here,” Jester suggests softly.

“Nah, you should ask your mom first. She’ll at least pretend like she would say no to you.”

“She says no to me a lot of times, Beau! You just haven’t been around long enough to hear them.”

“Well. I can fix that.”

“You’re so—” Jester turns around, flushed and windswept. “Sunset makes you kind of mushy, you know.”

Beau shakes her head. “I didn’t know, actually. But I’m glad I get to learn with you.”

“See!”

“I can do this for hours, Jessie, as long as you’re around. It’s at least half your fault that I’m like this.”

“Oh. Okay.” Jester snuggles in again, drawing her knees up to her chest, and Beau can hear the smile in her voice even as she curls up. “Did our blanket blow away?”

Beau looks around, coming up empty. “Or someone stole it. I think Veth had it last.”

“Poop.”

“We can go inside,” Beau says, chuckling. “I mean, we’ll have to eventually, right?”

“Yeah, but I like being out here with you,” Jester mumbles.

“You sayin’ you don’t like being inside with me? —Ow!” Beau instinctively shrinks back as Jester pinches her stomach, giggling the same way she does whenever she pulls a prank for the Traveler. Beau reaches down and pulls Jester’s hand away, wrestling for a few moments as Jester tickles her palms.

“Okay, okay,” she says, finally grabbing hold of Jester’s wrists. “Why don’t you ask Marion about tonight and then we can head in and get ready?”

“Okay.” Jester slides her arms out of Beau’s grip and plays with the tips of her fingers. “I like that you call my mom by her first name.”

Beau is glad for the way her blush hides in the darkening sky. “I like that she calls me by mine,” she confesses gently. “Not that she wouldn’t anyway, but it’s—you know, just ‘cause it’s like—I, uh. Whatever. I like it.”

Jester laughs and kisses Beau’s shoulder. “I get it.” She clears her throat and mumbles a few words, counting on her fingers. “ _Hi, Mama. Are you going to have a magic patio concert tonight? Because the weather’s really nice, and I don’t know if you had one—_ Shoot.”

“I think you got cut off there, Jes.”

“Yeah, yeah—oh!” Jester tips her ear slightly, as if that will let her hear Marion’s response better. Beau smiles every time she does it (which is every time she sends a message). “Mama says yes.”

“Hey, what a surprise.”

Jester bats her elbow and leans back again, angling toward the ocean. The water is getting dark, closing in on black by the horizon, with a blinding stripe of light in the center as the sun fades. Beau keeps her eyes trained on either side of it, watching the water as it ripples on the surface—sometimes from the wind, sometimes from a fish swimming too high.

Seems like it’s a universal thing, flying too close to the sun. It used to be an irresistible urge in Beau.

Now, she feels the drag of the tide.

“We don’t have to go in yet though, right?”

Beau shifts in the sand.

“Nah, we’re cool.”

/

They linger for another twenty minutes, just long enough to see the night crowd drift into the city. Beau and Jester walk slowly off of the beach hand in hand, and it’s—it’s stupid, it’s silly, it’s such a dumb little thing to be happy about. It’s the kind of thing that Beau never saw growing up in her big house and small city, where her parents didn’t understand and the rest of town didn’t like their family. Beau has tried to shed the Lionett name for more reasons than her father, and the hostility has been much harder to shake.

Perhaps she’s been going about it the wrong way and really just needed a hand to hold. Maybe Jester is going to soften her, one limb at a time.

“We could wear our fancy clothes again,” Beau suggests as they shuffle through the loose sand.

Jester shakes her head. “No, this isn’t a fancy clothes party. It’s the most I felt at home, when I could watch from the balcony. You should be comfy.”

“All I’ve got are my fancy clothes, my regular outfit, or that stuff we got in Xhorhas that might not go over so well.”

Jester pulls Beau closer, clings onto Beau’s arm with both of hers. “I might have bought you some things a while ago,” she admits shyly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s cool,” Beau grins. “I’ll, uh. Yeah, I’ll wear that.”

“You don’t even want to see it?”

“As long as it’s not yellow, I trust you.”

“It’s not yellow,” Jester promises. “There are sleeves, though.”

Beau wrinkles her nose. “In warm weather?”

“They’re short ones.” Jester’s laugh always sounds like a song—in the fading dusk, Beau thinks that maybe it’s caught on the wind and blown through some chimes hidden in the clouds.

Gods, what a sap.

“It gets kind of chilly at night,” Jester continues.

“Right, I remember.”

Jester stops and lets go of Beau, stretching her arms. “Okay, we are taking for _ever_ to walk back to the chateau.”

Beau smiles at the exasperated expression on Jester’s face. “You could Dimension Door us?”

“No way,” Jester scoffs. “That’s no fun.” She crouches down and holds her arms out behind her back, wiggling her fingers. “Come on.”

Beau hesitates, rolling her eyes, before climbing on. “Veth better not see this,” she grumbles.

Jester runs all the way back home, making sure to pass Veth’s table at the bar when they get inside.

Beau loves her anyway.

/

“Is everyone else coming?”

“Duh. What else do they have to do?”

Beau smiles and keeps buttoning her shirt, shifting her shoulders to let it fall naturally. It’s a looser shirt than she’s used to wearing, with enough room in the short sleeves for almost two of her arms. But she can see why Jester picked it out—it’s fitted still, and it drapes gracefully over her body.

Beau has never really thought about herself with words like that—graceful or lean or sleek. Handsome, maybe. Hot, without question. But she’s never dwelled on the softer parts of her, other than to get rid of them, to stow them away before someone squeezed too hard.

She feels different, when Jester sees her. One look from Jester and Beau forgets she has angles at all.

She ties the drawstring of her linen pants, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she turns around. She looks down as she waits for Jester, rocking on her heels and flexing her toes in her sandals. Beau rolls her shoulders one more time, smiling as her thin cream shirt creates a small puff of wind. It’s tucked into light blue pants that she’s rolled at the ankle, not above showing off a bit of her dark skin, which looks really fucking good against these colors. Jester did that intentionally, she’s sure.

“Hey, Beau?”

“Hm?”

Jester winks as she adjusts her dress. “You look really gay in that shirt.”

“Yeah?” Beau flashes her cockiest grin, the one that drives women crazy, and laughs as Jester predictably blushes. “Good.”

They make their way downstairs, past the lively bar and out onto the patio. Musicians with fiddles and lutes tune their instruments in a corner, and a few of the house staff are stringing up copper wire adorned with twinkling, magical lights. It really is pretty, and Beau doesn’t feel self-conscious about thinking that until she catches Fjord watching them with a gigantic smirk.

She flips him off and starts to rub the softness from her face.

“Don’t even try it,” Jester laughs as she pulls Beau’s hands down. “We all know you’re a big marshmallow.”

Beau sneers. “The fuck’s a marshmallow?”

“You!” Jester chirps, and punctuates it with a quick poke to the squishiest part of Beau’s hip.

“Y’know, surprisingly, that doesn’t clarify anything.”

But Beau allows herself to be led to a table, long and lined with benches wide enough to accommodate all of them. The rest of their friends are already sitting down, save for Veth and Yeza, who are trying (and failing) to corral Luc.

Beau folds herself onto the seat, slides over to press against Jester. “Sup.”

Yasha pushes a drink at her—it’s liquor instead of their usual ale, something that smells vaguely fruity and has constant wisps of pink mist flowing off the top. Beau has to avoid a small candle in a jar as she reaches for it. It’s such a conflicting feeling—this whole place is a tourist trap; she’s sure that if they ever had to pay regular price for anything, it would be gouged as fuck. It’s too cutesy sometimes, too idyllic and perfectly packaged.

But the breeze is soothing, and the moon shines brighter than it does in the dusty dirt of the Empire. The lights are, begrudgingly, lovely; conversation out here is a subdued murmur; and there’s enough space for everyone to relax, but not so much that they lose their sense of privacy.

Beau watches Jester smile under the stars and hears the call of home.

(And the drink is fucking delicious).

“You two look relaxed,” Caduceus says. He doesn’t wink, but Fjord does.

Jester nods. “We spent the whole day on the beach. Isn’t it funny that sometimes just being in the sun can make you _so_ tired?”

“Mm. The sand helps, too. Good for sinking.”

Beau furrows her brows at that, takes a moment to digest his words that always seem a little more sinister the longer you think about them. But it’s true, she supposes—they sank in more ways than one today.

“Oh my gosh, _right_?” Jester’s tail flits from side to side underneath the bench. She talks a mile a minute about their day—really impressive considering they literally didn’t do anything other than sit and be together, which is also exactly what they’re doing now only with more people. But Caduceus is listening because he always does, and Beau props her chin on a fist to do the same, because it’s Jester. She smiles when she feels Jester reach for her hand under the table.

Jester talks and Beau drinks and eventually flags someone down to ask about food. The kitchen’s almost closed, or it closed a short while ago; Beau can tell by the hesitation on the woman’s face. So she pulls out her trump card and motions to Jester, and when the waitress starts to walk away, Beau passes her a couple gold.

Jester tickles playfully at her palm.

“I saw that,” she says, peeking at Beau from the corner of her eye.

Beau shrugs. “Wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

“A year ago you might have.”

“Oh.” Beau cocks her head. “Yeah, probably. I didn’t even think of that.”

Jester smiles. “I love you,” she murmurs, scratching lightly at Beau’s knee.

“Love you, too, Jes.”

“Oh my god, I’m gonna _puke_!” Veth screeches. “You’re disgusting.”

“ _You’re_ disgusting,” Beau fires back. “Have you seen you around Yeza?”

Veth turns her nose up haughtily. “We’re not that bad.”

The entire table erupts into an argument, almost everyone disabusing Veth of the notion that she’s anything less than sappy with her husband. Even Caleb looks up from his book to contribute.

Jester turns away from the conversation, tugging at Beau’s shirt to get her attention. “There are comfier chairs toward the back, if you want to go sit somewhere when the food gets here.”

Beau scrunches her eyebrows together. “What, by myself? Why?”

“Not by yourself, Beau,” Jester giggles. “I’m hungry, too.”

“Oh, I see how it is. You just want me for my food.”

“It’s definitely not your food.”

“I paid for it.”

“Pfft, barely.”

Beau sticks her tongue out and catches Jester looking, just for a second before she finds Beau’s eyes again. As far as Beau’s concerned, they’re the only people in the world right now.

“Yeah,” she says, grinning lazily. “We’ve spent the whole day sitting together. What’s another hour or two?”

“Exactly,” Jester smiles.

The waitress returns a few minutes later with the food, moments before the band starts playing. Beau and Jester sneak away from the group, weaving their way through a quieter crowd. There’s a lounge chair in a corner, and Beau thinks that maybe it’s more than luck that it’s empty. She passes the food to Jester as she settles in, scooting to the side to make room for two. The chair is lined with a thick canvas—comfortable enough to spend long stretches sitting, but sturdy enough that it doesn’t sag.

Beau waits until Jester’s situated, then slings an arm across her shoulder. Jester balances the plate on her legs and they share the food between them, silently and evenly dividing the piles of fish, potatoes, and crispy cabbage. Beau could live here just for the fresh seafood, if there weren’t already better reasons to stay.

The band plays and eventually conversation starts up again, but never loud enough to drown out the music. Beau and Jester clean their plate, talking and telling stories that somehow they haven’t yet run out of. Laughing leads to stargazing leads to sleeping, and Beau watches as their friends retire in twos and threes, waving as they go. Yasha is the last one left and she walks toward their chair instead of leaving, helping to lift a sleepy Jester onto Beau’s back. It’s a shame Jester isn’t awake, because she probably won’t believe that Beau carried her. Beau’s heftier than a twig; she’ll stand by that. But it’s not as easy as she’d like it to be, either.

Beau carries Jester all the way to their room, slower than she usually would, and Yasha walks with her the whole way. Nicodranas seems to be good for everyone—Yasha talks more here, laughs more and doesn’t hold herself so tightly. The magic isn’t just in the party, Beau thinks.

She deposits Jester on their bed as gently as she can. Jester barely moves, but she does let out a loud snort.

“Jes.” Beau unbuttons her shirt, slips it off as she gently shakes Jester’s toe. “Hey, wake up for a sec. Don’t fall asleep in your clothes.”

“‘S the whole point of beach clothes,” Jester mumbles. “You can totally sleep in them.”

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s right.”

“You don’t know.”

Beau can’t help laughing. “Okay.” She finishes undressing anyway, slides Jester’s shoes off her feet. Jester is cozy as she waits, nestling back into Beau when she slips into bed. Beau pulls the sheets over both of them and closes her eyes, lets her senses overwhelm her—

(the glow of moonlight through the curtains; the slow scrape of waves buzzing in her ears; a briny tang of the shore hanging in the air; cloying cocktails, heavy and sweet on her tongue;

and the ocean, midnight blue and calm as it breathes, safely wrapped in her arms)—

There is more than sand to sink into, Beau learns.


End file.
